Cabana Boy
by JJJJ12
Summary: What do you get when you combine a fake married Molly and Sherlock on a case in the tropics, a skimpy new summer wardrobe courtesy of a mischievous Meena, a target with rather naughty intentions, and a dim-witted Instagram sensation? Fun. Lots of it.
1. The Black Bikini

Today had been an unpleasant day, if one were to put it mildly. A rather deadly E. coli outbreak at a renowned restaurant in the city had left ten unfortunate people dead and Molly with a cooler full of cadavers to get to work on. She had watched the nightly news on the telly the evening before, so she was aware of the outbreak. At the time however, no one had died, so Molly didn't expect to arrive at work the next morning and become the sole person responsible for post-mortems.

At any rate, she knew it was her job, but for once in her life, she'd enjoy an easy Friday. Instead, she was wrist deep in Mrs. Faulkner, a dear old lady who had just wanted to celebrate her birthday in style.

 _Jeez, Molly. Stop thinking about them as people. It will only make you sad._

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on other things. Like that new Ed Sheeran song. That would work. Thus, she began to hum, removing organs and all.

Until Sherlock Holmes strutted in, his eyes and fingers completely devoted to his mobile. Molly sighed and set her scalpel down, turning to look at the man.

"Molly," He bellowed out, his eyes still locked on his mobile, "I need your assistance with a case."

She sighed and shook her head. "Sherlock, I'm swamped here. I can't help."

He continued to type away, never once looking up. "You get off at five. Our flight leaves at half nine. I will be at your flat at seven."

She blinked and made a face. "Sherlock, are you even listening to me? I can't help."

He snorted and continued typing. "You can and you will. Be ready at seven. Details to come."

And just as he arrived, he departed. Molly groaned and shook her head, muttering to herself about the nerve of that man.

Xxx

It was during her short lunch hour (the one the law so irritatingly required her to take) that she noticed the previously unread text messages. In typical Sherlock fashion, it was short and to the point.

 _Following lead to Barbados. You will play the role of my wife. Dress for the tropics. Elegant and chic. We want to climb the ladder. – SH_

 _That means no fruit patterned clothes. – SH_

 _We will return on Friday. Stamford is not to comment. Mycroft has taken care of it. – SH_

Molly read the messages over a few times, unbelieving of his words. Barbados? She was getting a tropical holiday! She bit her lip and took a bite of her sandwich, suddenly very much looking forward to finishing up the day.

Just her and a strong drink, laying on the beach, the sun beating down on her exhausted skin. Throw in some cute cabana boys, a nice romantic novel, delicious food, and she was ready to go! Of course, she'd have to put up with Sherlock, but that was something she could tolerate.

Who was she kidding? She bloody loved the idea…

Even if her brain was constantly recommending her to abandon _that_ ship.

At any rate, it wasn't until she tossed her trash in the bin that her plans came crumbling down. She let out a cry and bite her lip, realizing that she was in quite the pickle.

 _What am I going to wear?_

Now in the middle of February, Molly had taken the liberty of going through her non-winter clothes, deciding to pretty much toss or give away anything that wouldn't survive a London winter. Part of the decision was the desire to start fresh, the other half simply because she was moving to a new flat and wanted to bring as little as possible.

Of course, now she found herself in a peculiar position. Molly Hooper owned not a single pair of sandals, shorts, or a swim costume. And now Sherlock expected her to have a bag packed and ready to go within the next…

She glanced down at her watch.

 _Six hours?!_

She cursed and bit her lip, knowing there was only one solution to her problem (well, one that didn't involve her leaving work early or turning down a free holiday with Sherlock). She grabbed her mobile and dialed the familiar number, taking a deep breath when the friendly voice answered with a cheerful hello.

"Meena!" Molly squeaked, gnawing on her lip, "I'm in a bit of trouble and I need your help."

Meena groaned, the sound of the London streets audible around her voice. "You better not be in prison."

"Of course not! You're off today, right? Had a dentist appointment?"

"Guilty," She responded happily, "Just got some groceries too. Chicken is on sale at Tesco. You should take a peek."

That got Molly's attention. "Really? How much is—" She groaned and shook her head. "Not now. This is an emergency."

"An emergency? What kind? Are you handcuffed to a bed and need me to unlock you?"

Molly groaned. "This is going to sound ridiculous but Sherlock—"

Meena laughed. "I'll stop you right there. I don't need to hear the Sherlock Holmes rundown. Just tell me what you need from me."

"I need you to buy me a summer wardrobe and have it ready by seven tonight," Molly forced out, still nibbling on her lips.

Meena couldn't help but laugh again. "A summer wardrobe? Is that git dragging you off on a holiday?" She took Molly's silence as an affirmative and continued, "Right. Okay. What do you need? Do I get artistic control? My style choices?"

Molly sighed and looked at the clock. "I need everything. Tops, shorts, sandals, a swim costume… Everything. Probably a new suitcase too. And yes, your style is so much better than mine! Sherlock said I need to appear elegant and chic. Whatever that means."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Meena practically squealed, "But most importantly, I need a budget."

Molly sighed and began to walk back to her office, trying to run numbers in her head.

 _Oh, screw this. Mycroft can pick up this bill._

"Spend whatever you think is necessary. I'll make one of them foot the tab."

Meena let out another squeal. "Oh, miss Molly, you will not be let down!"

"Thank you. And, I need you to watch Toby again."

Meena groaned. "Fine. I'll drop the stuff off and grab the cat before seven. Love you!"

And the line went dead. Molly put her mobile away, finally able to take a deep breath. Meena had an excellent sense of style. She would take care of everything.

 _Now, back to Miss Jenkins._

Xxx

Oh, Meena took care of everything alright. An unlimited budget to buy a wardrobe for her best friend to go on a holiday with the man she's been madly in love with for years? This was an early birthday present for sure.

 _Think of the airline miles I'm going to get for using my card! I'm only seven-hundred pounds away from my next reward._

She had spent the remainder of the day strolling around the city, buying Molly must-needed summer clothes. A few beautiful dresses, some stylish rompers to show off her legs, a few delicious halter tops to show off Molly's toned shoulders…

She smirked and set the bags down in Molly's flat, extremely pleased with herself.

Oh, she got Molly what she wanted. Shorts? Sure, she picked those up. But not Molly's standard Bermuda shorts or capris pants. She got some wonderfully short pairs, sure to show off Molly's toned calves.

Dresses? Not Molly's church appropriate ensembles. These promised skin-kissed skin and lots of attention.

And then the swim costumes…

Meena just laughed and opened the newly purchased suit case, slowly packing away her purchases. Molly would surely kill her when she pulled _that_ bikini out.

 _Oh well. I'm only helping a girl out._

And since Meena was a wonderful friend, she went above and beyond, buying Molly some new sexy knickers and bras as well.

 _A girl must be prepared. Especially with a bloke paying the bill._

Meena zipped up the suit case and set it by the door, unable to hide her grin. Once she finally lured Toby into his crate and escorted the cat out, she whipped out her mobile to send Molly a text.

 _I took the liberty of packing your suitcase. Just grab your makeup and toiletries and you'll be good to go. – Meena xx_

 _Also, Toby is a brat. He hates that crate. – Meena xx_

 _P.S. Just forwarded you the bill. If Sherlock is paying, I charge a ten percent service charge for my work. If the rich brother is paying, it's fifteen percent. – Meena xx_

 _Oh, and have some fun. Get some sun and let your inhibitions run wild. You need it. – Meena xx_

With one final smirk, Meena strolled out, Toby meowing in her arms. Maybe, days from now, she'd stop hearing about Sherlock's ridiculous antics and instead about his performance in the bedroom.

Now _that_ was something she'd be interested in hearing.

Xxx

At 6:45, with only fifteen minutes to spare, Molly raced into her flat. She had finished up her work around 5, but Mike desperately needed a last-minute arrival looked over, especially with Molly's pending week-long holiday. Naturally, she stayed, but ended up finishing up at 6. Add in a tube delay and here she was, finally in her flat, fifteen minutes before Sherlock was due to arrive.

At that moment, she was extremely relieved to see a gorgeous new white suitcase standing in her sitting room, ready to be whisked away on a tropical holiday. She walked over to it and grinned, noticing a folded-up stack of clothes on top, as well as a cute pair of booties, and a note. She read it over quickly.

 _Just a comfy dress and your favorite jumper for the flight over. Everything is packed—don't forget to pack your toothbrush! Have lots of fun. – Meena xx_

Molly unfolded the dress, grinning when her eyes met the both comfy and cute pink maxi dress. Meena knew her so well, especially to throw in her favorite jumper for the flight! With only ten minutes to spare, Molly dashed into her bedroom, quick to throw the last of her toiletries, makeup, and passport into her handbag.

She had just slid the new shoes onto her feet when Sherlock's voice rang through her flat and into her bedroom.

"Molly? Please tell me you're ready."

Molly peeked her head out, dressed in her new clothes, her favorite tote bag clutched under her arms. "I'm ready. You're standing by my suitcase."

Sherlock looked over at the white bag and raised an eyebrow. "This is new."

"It is. Meena picked up some stuff for me since your dress code was rather specific. I'll be sending you the bill," She announced, stepping into the sitting room.

He let his eyes roam up and down, considering her attire. "The dress will do. Regarding the bill, I'll forward it to Mycroft. This is his doing."

She just nodded and checked her handbag for her passport for the eighth time. She was rather paranoid about that sort of thing. Once she saw her cherry patterned leather case (surely Sherlock could deal with that fruit pattern), she looked at the dashing man in front of her.

Per usual, he was clad designer clothes, but even then, his attire looked less Sherlock-esq. His tailored top was a rich navy blue, a beautiful color that she had never seen him wear. And, instead of black trousers, he wore a tan pair, beautifully framing his delicious thighs and firm arse.

 _Damnit, Molly. You're supposed to be over him, remember?_

"I've never seen you in tan trousers," She began, desperately hoping her cheeks hadn't turned red, "You look… unlike yourself."

He made a face. "Well, I refuse to wear a bloody Hawaiian shirt and shorts on holiday. I'm afraid my normal clothes are bit too… formal for the occasion, however."

She just nodded. "I think you look nice."

He rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out two silver wedding bands. He slipped one onto his finger and held out the smaller one, watching Molly with a steady gaze. She sighed and grabbed it, slipping it onto her fingers as well.

Sherlock studied her fingers, his eyes flicking between her hands and her eyes. Molly could feel her cheeks darkening, wondering what was going through his mind. Was he thinking the ring looked natural? Would this be the impetus for him to realize that they belonged together? Would they finally—

"You'll need a manicure at the airport."

With that, he strolled out, leaving Molly with blushing cheeks.

And her suit case.

 _This is going to be a long week._

 _At least you get a new wardrobe out of it._

Xxx

An hour later, Molly found herself sitting in a spa chair, two women working eagerly on her toes and fingernails. While she had initially grabbed a funky purple color for her nails, Sherlock scolded her and reminded her of the role she was playing. So, she had settled with a basic light pink on her fingers, although she had won the argument about the cherry red color on her toes.

 _He's like the bloody Queen, dictating the color of my nails!_

At any rate, it was a bizarre situation. First of all, Molly was a simple woman. She had never, ever, paid to have someone paint her nails. She rarely did her fingers because of her job, and whenever she felt like painting her toenails, it was always across her sofa with a color Meena probably handed down to her.

Then of course, she could not get over the fact that they were in an airport. She envied people who got massages and such in the busy thoroughfares, and now here she was, getting serviced like a celebrity!

But, perhaps the weirdest component of the evening was Sherlock sitting across from her, also having his fingers and nails worked on. He was rather entertained, watching the three women work on his cuticles.

 _Three? Why does he get three and I get two?_

She met his gaze and couldn't help but giggle. He gave her a defiant look.

"I'll have you know that Mycroft has been getting manicures since the minute he got a government position. He seems to think that maintained cuticles are the key to success," Sherlock explained, giving the women a sugary-sweet smile.

Molly laughed again. "Yes but… You're not Mycroft."

"Wow. Fantastic observation, Molly."

"I'm just saying… Why?"

He shrugged. "If I must wait for you to be serviced, I might as well try, shouldn't I? It's rather pleasant. Besides, I'm going for the type of wanker that gets his nails and eyebrows done."

She bit her lip. "So, you're getting your eyebrows done too?" She barely contained her laughter.

"Nope," he responded, popping his 'p' sound, "But you are, my dearest wife."

Xxx

Molly tucked her knees under her jumper, her eyes locked on the plane window. While it was dark outside, she had no idea else what to do with her time. Her face ached after having her facial hair brutally waxed and plucked. At the thought of earlier, she glanced down at her hands, having to do a doubletake when they landed on baby pink nails and a silver wedding band.

 _You're someone else._

"Surely you've realized that it's dark outside. Staring out the window is pointless," Sherlock's deep voice announced, his gaze locked on a stack of paper. He was now wearing a pair of stylish glasses, an addition that he emphasized was a part of his cover.

 _Why does he have to be so bloody fit?_

She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sherlock. I'm aware. And don't call me Shirley."

He just blinked. Molly groaned and mumbled to herself, unsurprised by his non-existent pop culture knowledge. She shifted in her seat and yawned, although kept her gaze on the handsome man beside her.

 _My husband._

"So," She began, watching him read over his paperwork, "Tell me about our holiday."

He looked up from his readings and sighed. He gave her a nod and placed the papers back in the bag at his feet. She watched him expectantly and was rather surprised when he waved a stewardess over to bring them more champagne.

 _I can't believe we're flying first class._

When she disappeared, he turned to look at Molly. "We're looking for Richard Blackwell. He's an Australian businessman, although he lives in Belfast full-time. I believe he's behind some of my more recent, boring cases."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Boring, according to Sherlock, normally referred to crimes of the non-violent variety. Ergo, if someone wasn't at risk of death or great bodily harm, it wasn't worth his full devotion. Clearly, however, the connection of one man to many different cases was more exciting for the detective.

He continued with his story. "I think I can pin him for money laundering and fraud. But, mainly I'm looking for him because he has connections to some terrible people."

"Terrible?" Molly asked, unable to take her eyes off his gorgeous face.

He shifted in his seat. "According to Mycroft, he has proof we need to put some awful people behind bars. Sex crimes, prostitution, sex tourism… The list could go on."

She frowned. "Sex trafficking?"

"More or less. He's relatively harmless, but he knows people that aren't. Regardless, Richard Blackwell is taking his newest girlfriend to Barbados. He's known to use the presidential suite at the hotel we're staying at. We stay there, frequent the sort of places he would frequent, and befriend the couple."

He quickly thanked the stewardess once their drinks arrived and took a gulp. "Then, once we're trusted, I'll get the information I need, and he'll be apprehended at the airport right before his mistress can land a new rich man."

Molly blinked and sipped her champagne. "Right. Okay. But why me?"

Sherlock gave her a look. "Molly. Please don't act like you're stupid. It's unbecoming."

She rolled her eyes. "We live in a progressive society. Why not bring John? You two would make a cute couple."

He scowled and shook his head. "Molly." He issued, a warning in his face.

"Mr. and Mr. Holmes-Watson. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Or would it be Mr. and Mr. Watson-Holmes?"

She couldn't help but laugh at the way his shoulders tensed, and a deeply irritated expression crossed his features. She sipped her champagne and snuggled into the chair, knowing that she could make this trip fun. Sure, Sherlock was going to be working, and she was there to help, but that didn't mean she couldn't relax in the sun and drink her weight in sugary cocktails.

Xxx

Hours later, standing in their expansive suite, overlooking the ocean, Molly was incapable of doing anything but squeaking. She shifted from room to room, fawning over the ginormous space, to the glamorous decorations, to the shower that could surely fit eight people inside. The bathtub was a large jacuzzi tub, surrounded by candles and a bloody wine bar! And then there was a fully stocked bar, a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the ocean, not to mention a bed that looked so comfortable, so luxurious that—

"Molly. Have you transformed into a mouse within the past ten minutes?" Sherlock asked, his long limbs spread across the magnificent looking bed, his styled hair pressed into one of the pillows. While she was disappointed to see him tame his curls, she couldn't deny that he looked especially gorgeous in glasses and short hair.

She stopped her exploring and crossed her arms. "You've dragged me across the ocean to help you. Am I not allowed to at least enjoy myself? This is my first holiday in years."

Sherlock sat up and pulled his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes. "Indeed. We need to change," He explained, rising to his feet, "Grab your swim costume. We'll have to venture down to the pool."

Molly bit her lip and gazed out the window, her body buzzing deliciously at the thought of the warm sun and cool water on her skin. "Lunch too?"

Sherlock waved his hand and began to dig through his own bag. Knowing that was Sherlock for "yes", Molly skipped over to her own suitcase and opened it, her mouth dropping at the sight of Meena's meticulous packing.

With all the running around and time with Sherlock, Molly had completely forgotten about the clothes fiasco. But at the sight of a cute evening purse and new sandals, she was immediately thrilled by her luck. Meena was a godsend.

She stuck her hand into a pocket and couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the feel of silky, smooth fabric rubbing against her fingers. She pulled the clump of cloth out and proceeded to jerk her hand away when her eyes met the piece.

Staring back at her were two pairs of scandalously skimpy knickers, colored in a deep emerald green and a sapphire navy blue. She swallowed and held them up to the light, realizing that the pieces would completely expose her bum. She quickly shoved them away and dug her hand further into the pocket, pulling out another handful of knickers, this time in various colors of lace.

These too seemed to be missing fabric, given how none would cover her bum. Molly soon found accompanying bras with sheer cups, as well as a night gown in a style she had never seen outside of a lingerie shop.

Molly cleared her throat and shoved the lingerie away, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Meena was being sweet and bought her some sexy undergarments, ever hopeful that her relationship with Sherlock would be more than platonic. He would never know that her knickers were… erotic.

She began to flick through the folded clothes, when a beautiful mint green fabric caught her attention. Molly smiled and pulled the piece out, unraveling the shirt.

That was a mistake.

She let out a gasp, staring at the halter neckline that exposed her neck and shoulders. Along the chest were cut-outs, exposing lots of skin and at least part of her cleavage. And while the shirt was not inappropriate, per say, (although she had no intentions of ever wearing it to church), it was certainly far out of her comfort zone.

Molly set the shirt aside and stared at the open suitcase, her eyes scanning the perfectly folded articles of clothing, in various sizes, colors, and fabrics. She felt her stomach drop.

 _Oh, Meena…_

She began to dig through the clothes, letting out desperate cries whenever she unraveled a new top, or dress, or pair of trousers, finding every single garment either fitting or tight or exposing skin that Molly had no interest exposing. From the backless satin maxi gown in a Tiffany blue, to linen shorts that barely passed her arse cheeks, to the v-cut romper that her breasts would surely escape with one wrong movement…

Molly had made a grave mistake trusting her stylish, adventurous best friend with making fashion choices. She glanced over at Sherlock, ensuring he was still in the bathroom, and quickly fished out her mobile. She dialed Meena's number, uncaring that it wasn't even eight in the morning back in London.

"I see you've unpacked?" Meena's sleepy voice asked, although clearly amused, "I had a bit of fun, as I assume you've seen."

Molly let out a strangled cry and pulled at her pleated hair. "Meena! I can't wear this stuff! It's…. It's…"

"Fashionable? Cute? Shows off your best assets?"

Molly whimpered. "Meena, imagine Sherlock's face when I walk out wearing a lace romper with half my tits out!"

Meena snorted. "Yes, love, that was literally exactly what I was thinking when I purchased it." She sighed and shifted, filling Molly's ear with noise, "Look, sweetie, I bought stuff that was cute and appropriate for a tropical holiday. I know it's not exactly your style, but I wanted you to come out of your comfort zone. Your clothes are a bit…"

Molly frowned. "A bit what?"

Her best friend groaned. "Outdated. Childish. Conservative. I love you, but I want you to take risks. And considering you're pretending to be someone else, isn't this exactly the time to do it?"

Molly swallowed. "I don't have the—"

"Bollocks! You have a great arse, shapely legs, and a flat stomach. Yeah, your tits are a bit small, but that means you can wear certain tops that us big-breasted girls only wish we could," Meena explained, "Have some confidence. You're gorgeous."

Molly glanced back over at the suitcase and bit her lip. "You really think I can pull some of these things off?"

"Of course! Otherwise I wouldn't have bought it. Now, go put on a sexy dress, and make that moron detective see what he's missing."

She pulled out a brown beach hat and found herself nodding, even though her friend couldn't see her. "Right. Okay. You're always right."

Meena laughed. "That I am. So, what's your favorite? I do love the navy dress, but I'm partial to the black bikini."

Molly dropped the hat and began digging through the suitcase, her heart hammering in her chest. When she pulled out the scrap of material, she let out a strangled cry. Meena's laugh filled her ears.

"Right. I'll let you go then. Love you! Be safe!"

The call disconnected, leaving Molly to stare at the itty-bitty swim costume, knowing she was going to kill Meena in a week's time.

Xxx

Back in London, Meena rolled back into her pillow, pulling her new friend into her arms. She pressed a kiss to his orange head and grinned.

"Oh Toby, hopefully after this weekend, there will be two more happy pussies in London!"

She rolled over and met the cat's gaze. "Although, at the rate our relationship is going, you might be the harder of the two to please."

Xxx

Molly and Sherlock entered the gate into the resort's pool area, an expansive terrace featuring a gorgeous infinity pool, two additional pools with fancy adornments like waterfalls, a lovely looking hot tub, an inviting poolside bar, as well as endless chairs and cabanas.

Sherlock pulled her over to a cabana and dropped her bag. He looked around the deck and back at Molly. He began to speak, although his voice hushed, "Blackwell has the cabana beside us reserved from noon to four. I expect they will arrive shortly."

Molly nodded and watched as he began to spread out their towels. She couldn't get over the sight of him dressed in navy blue swim shorts, falling just above his knees. She had never seen his bare legs before, and her body was going through a bit of sensory overlord. He had put on a pair of sunglasses, and was wearing just a snug, white buttoned t-shirt.

She looked down at her own clothes and took a shaky breath. She was wearing that black bikini, but thankfully was currently hiding in a white cover-up. She counted her blessings that the material wasn't see through and slipped out of her sandals.

Once satisfied with his towel fluffing, Sherlock pulled the shirt off, exposing his perfect body to the sun. Molly watched him, mouth agape.

 _Kill me now. He can't possibly be this fit._

She swallowed and watched as he dropped to the chair, immediately grabbing a medical journal. He flipped to a middle page and continued to read. Molly swallowed and dropped onto her own chair, her eyes scanning the pool.

Molly sighed and got comfortable on the chair, bringing the hat down to cover her eyes. Maybe now she could get a nice nap, only her lower legs exposed for a bit of sun—

"Molly, is there a particular reason you're still dressed?" Sherlock asked, rather uninterested, his eyes still locked on his medical journal.

She looked at the white fabric and gulped. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet, her hands twisting and pulling at the fabric. With one hand, she removed her hat, her other running up and down her thigh nervously.

Sherlock finally looked over at her, his eyebrow quirking. He shut the medical journal and watched her expectantly. "If your costume has fruit on it, I promise the honeymoon phase is over."

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke and forced herself to take a deep breath. With one final squeezing of her eyes, she pulled the cover off, her skin immediately visible to the warm sunlight. She gazed down at her body, her eyes running over the black top, with a wide V-shape, exposing much of her breasts to the world. But the top wasn't finished at her waist, as a black x of fabric continued down her midriff, ending in the middle of her stomach.

Molly looked like she was preparing for an evening with Christian Grey. And of course, the bottoms were scandalously tiny, the strap along her hips extraordinarily high, showing an extensive amount of thigh. The back left out at least half of each arse cheek, although thankfully had more cover than some of the knickers Meena had purchased her.

Overall, the ensemble was something she expected to see on a super model or celebrity. Not mousy, plain Molly Hooper.

She had become so focused on examining the bikini again (she had spent nearly twenty minutes staring at herself in the mirror while back in the hotel bathroom) that she hadn't noticed Sherlock's gaze locked on her.

She looked across the cabana to him, and nearly stumbled back. The look on his face was very… Un-Sherlock. His body had gone taut, his eyes running up and down her form, his pupils blown back in surprise.

Molly swallowed and gingerly wrapped her arms around herself. "I, uh… This is nice."

Sherlock sat up and continued to stare at her. The muscle in his neck twitched, and Molly swore the look he gave her was borderline murderous. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when a young woman skipped towards them.

She was sun kissed with wavy blonde hair, certainly no older than 25. She was clad in a sexy swimsuit herself, a skimpy teal ensemble that barely contained her (likely fake but expensive) breasts. A patterned scarf tied around her tiny waist, and an exotic flower pinned some of her loose locks back.

"Hello!" She announced, a grin spreading across her face, "We're neighbors!" She giggled and pointed to the cabana beside them, which members of the hotel staff were currently filling with food.

Molly looked over at Sherlock. His eyes were locked the approaching form of an older, yet rather attractive man. He was at least sixty but carried himself well. Judging by the way Sherlock sat up and attempted to relax, Molly knew that his target was the man approaching them.

"I just came by to say hello! I'm Mandy," She explained, her voice rather husky, "And this sexy as sin hunk of man meat is Richard." Mandy ran her hands down the man's chest and giggled when he grabbed one of her arse cheeks.

Molly swallowed and looked to Sherlock. He rose to his feet and gave them a very un-Sherlock smile. "What a pleasure. I'm Scott and this is my wife, Michelle. We just got in from London."

Mandy gasped delightedly. "Oh, a romantic trip then? How splendid. Come say hello if you get bored."

She gave Molly a wink and began to walk away, Richard in tow, but stopped to look back over at the petite woman. "By the way, I love the bikini." She giggled and bit her lip, her eyes excited, "I have something like that. Although Richard normally ends up tearing it off before I even get a pic up on Instagram!"

And just like that, the May-December couple disappeared into their own cabana. Molly squeaked and looked over at Sherlock, who incidentally was staring at her. She forced out an awkward laugh and lowered herself to the chair.

"Well. She likes my bikini," She forced out, ignoring the redness growing on her cheeks.

 _He tears it off her? Imagine Sherlock tearing this off me..._

She whimpered and laid back, still conscious of Sherlock's burning gaze on her form. She swallowed and looked back towards him. His eyes were unreadable.

"I realize it's a bit… much, but Meena bought it!"

"You think that's an excuse?" He spat out, his face contorting in anger, "I told you that we were ladder climbing, and you show up dressed for a burlesque—"

He stopped speaking as Mandy approached, this time holding a large, colorful cocktail. She giggled and focused on Molly. "Hey, Michelle, would you like to hit the shops with me later? Richard got me a new credit card but shopping with him is so dull. He just wants to take the clothes off!"

Molly forced a laugh and swallowed. She looked over at Sherlock, who looked genuinely surprised. Molly bit her lip and realized that maybe, she was going to be the key to solving this case. In fact, she was starting to think that Sherlock seriously miscalculated what type of partner this Richard Blackwell was going to be bringing on holiday.

She looked back to Mandy and nodded. "Oh, I'd love to! There's nothing better than shopping with a girlfriend, is there?"

Mandy squealed and took a gulp of her drink. "You're so right! Besides, there's this incredible lingerie shop on the fifth floor. Just between you and me," She looked around before back at Molly, "the way the fabric rubs against your clit and nipples is just exquisite. It does most of the work for him," She gave Sherlock a wink.

Molly forced out a laugh and nodded. "Sounds wonderful. When should we meet up?"

"Say five or so? Richard and I have dinner reservations at eight. I just want to pick up some sexy panties and a new pair of heels," She explained, looking back to her cabana to give her man a wave, "He tends to ruin all of my favorite pairs."

"Five is grand," She glanced back at Sherlock, who was still watching, although based on his glossy gaze, Molly presumed he was buffering, "And what a coincidence. Scott and I are having dinner at the same time."

Mandy squealed and clapped. "Oh my gosh, yay! You totally can join us." She took another slurp of her drink and backed away, "I'll see you two later. And by the way," She leaned forward, her lips in a grin, "These curtains close and give some great privacy."

With a wink, the blonde was off. Molly let out a staggered laugh and got up, knowing she desperately needed a drink. She watched as Sherlock blinked a few times and focused back on her. She bit her lip.

"That was easy," She began, a smirk gracing her lips, "I already made a friend."

Sherlock scowled. "Molly…"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and strolled off, in search of the poolside bar. While her gaze was set on the cute bartender and the delicious looking drinks he was preparing, she managed to miss the way Sherlock's gaze followed her, his eyes travelling over each and every inch of exposed skin.

She missed the harsh intact of breath, the shaking hand through his hair, and the soft expletive that escaped his lips. Because he didn't miss the way her breasts were tantalizingly exposed to the sunlight, or the way the fabric x wrapped around her tiny waist, or the smooth skin of her thigh and arse uncovered. He also didn't miss the way she caught the attention of every man on that pool deck.

Including a one Richard Blackwell.

And a very chipper Mandy-no-last-name.

 **To be continued…**


	2. Topless in the Tropics

Molly hadn't let Sherlock's chastising ruin her tropical holiday. As soon as she had made shopping plans with Mandy for later in the day, she had dropped to the lounge chair, equipped with a fruity cocktail and a delicious salad. While she had wanted a sandwich, she knew Sherlock would scold her for not playing the part. As if a woman in her position would be caught dead eating carbs.

And from that moment, she enjoyed the sunshine and a good book, not paying any attention to her fake husband. Although, she could feel his gaze on her. It was always lethal. Smoking hot while ice cold.

A solid two hours passed before she heard his deep, commanding voice.

"Molly. I need to apply sun cream to your back," he bellowed, his eyes still locked on a medical journal, his tone unchanged. It was incredible how he could utter something so scandalous without a batting an eyelash.

She lowered her sunglasses and glanced over to him. She quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

He simply waved his hand, gesturing to their neighboring cabana. Molly moved to her knees for a better view, steadying her body as her gaze landed on Richard Blackwell very enthusiastically rubbing sun cream on the back of his much younger lover. Molly swallowed.

"We do what they do," Sherlock explained, turning another page, "so get the bottle and try to look… like her."

Molly blinked and sat up, glancing back over at the sensual woman. How could Sherlock expect her to duplicate the wanton poses of the young female? She glanced down at her breasts and swallowed. Would those even stay in place with all the flapping around she was doing?

As she maneuvered onto her stomach, she watched Sherlock set his book down. He rose to his feet and grabbed a bottle, his movements as elegant and determined as ever. Doing her best to mimic Mandy's wanton display, she pulled the halter straps down and untied the back, exposing her bare back and the edges of her breast to his gaze.

She settled onto the chair, desperately trying to focus on the feeling of the plush cushion crushing into her stomach, or the warm sun hitting every inch of her. Anything that would distract her from the cool lotion hitting her skin, or the wickedly talented hands that pressed into her body.

Sherlock expertly began to apply the lotion onto her back, his hands smoothing over her back, shoulders, arms, and torso. His hands slid all over with the skills of a masseuse (and knowing him he probably somehow had experience as one), his fingers and knuckles digging into every nook and cranny of her body.

"Oh…" She managed to choke out, her eyes shut, her face pressed into the towel, "That feels nice."

He hummed in agreement and slid his hands further down her body, stopping directly on her arse cheeks. Molly let out a squeal of surprise as he rubbed lotion on the exposed cheeks, before casually moving down to the back of her thighs. She had started to count in her head, desperate for the blissfully miserable rub down to end.

Then, to both her delight and dismay, his hands left her body. She opened her eyes, still only able to see the back of the chair, and began to shift around, preparing to fix her bikini top. However, with the skill of a cat, Sherlock had straddled her back, his knees resting on either side of her body, his chest hovering over the behind of her body. He pressed his mouth to the side of her head, his mouth hovering over her ear.

"They're watching us," He whispered, his delicious voice sending shivers down her spine, "They've taken a not-so-innocent interest in us."

Molly swallowed and squeezed her eyes closed, willing her body to not shake or to focus on Sherlock's placement too hard. "How do you mean?"

"I have not divulged all information to you, Molly," He whispered, his nose pressed against the tops of her ear.

She took a shuddering breath. "What other information?"

Sherlock hummed against her ear. "Richard Blackwell has a rather noted proclivity for amorous exchanges with more than just his girlfriend of the month."

Molly gasped and tried to look over her shoulder to meet Sherlock's gaze, but was still pinned underneath his hard body. She took another gulp of air. "You're suggesting what? They're swingers?"

He made a noise of agreement. "Something like that."

"Sherlock…"

He chuckled, his breath blowing onto her ear, "I simply wanted to befriend them. I never expected them to pin their attention on us. It certainly makes sense given how you look."

Molly couldn't take the sensations any longer—just his voice in her ear and his body cocooning around her back was driving her mad. She needed to see him if they were going to have this ridiculous conversation that she was certain she was not understand.

With as much force as she could muster, she managed to wiggle over, flipping herself so she now laid on her back, meeting Sherlock's gaze. She swallowed, now realizing the intimacy of him hovering over her very malleable body. Not to mention, her bikini's loose resting on her chest, given as she hadn't been able to refasten the fabric. She averted her gaze.

"How I look?" She managed to force out, "You're suggesting they want us to join them?"

He studied her, his eyes intense. "You're not exactly unattractive, Molly. Neither am I. Then you add in this ridiculous new wardrobe of yours and you're certain to draw attention."

She gasped. "What are you suggesting? My bloody bikini makes me a target for a foursome?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm saying it's certainly more appealing than any frilly, cherry-patterned thing you surely would have brought without my guidance."

She frowned. "Right. I didn't realize I was so unattractive when I'm just being myself."

He groaned. "Christ Molly, must you twist every word I—"

He suddenly stopped speaking and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, one hand dropping to cradle her jaw, the other to run down the exposed skin of her hip. She gasped and immediately met his ministrations, her hands moving forward to touch his exposed, surprisingly toned chest. His kisses intensified for a few moments more, before he stopped at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Oh! If I had come a few moments later, would one of you be naked?" Mandy asked, taking another sip of her fruity cocktail, "I appreciate you leaving the curtains open."

Sherlock dropped beside Molly before expertly lifting her into his arms, causing her to let out a squeal and desperately hold onto her untied top. He settled her on his lap, one arm draped around her stomach, the other playing with her hair.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Molly quickly jumped in. "Oh, of course." She reached her hand behind her to rest on Sherlock's thigh, reminding herself to breath, "We…" She swallowed, "Love public sex. One of my kinks. We…" She bit her lip, "Well, we've joined the mile-high club a few times. I had this one twice on the flight over."

Mandy moaned and caressed her chest, still watching the couple. "Yeah? In the bathroom?"

Molly nodded eagerly, her hand still rubbing expertly at Sherlock's leg, "Once in the bathroom. The other time we just sort of…" She bit her lip and smirked, "You know, pulled the blanket over us. I had to bend quite a bit, but it was all good fun. Especially when we made eye contact with one of the stewardesses."

The blonde gasped and moaned again. "What happened?"

"She left her number."

Mandy squealed and took another gulp of her drink. "Oh, look at you two! Absolutely naughty." She glanced over to her cabana and waved at Richard, who was busy arguing with someone on the phone, "Unfortunately, Richard has his private jet, so there's no naughty public sex. Just naughty sex."

Molly glanced over at the man and flushed when he met her gaze. He quirked an eyebrow but continued his yelling. She swallowed and glanced back to Mandy. "You lot enjoying yourselves?"

The blonde giggled. "Oh, yeah. He's been taking work calls. Some of his colleagues are detained in Thailand. All sort of a mess." She waved her hand and took another gulp of her drink, studying Molly and her untied top, "Oh, that's a good idea Michelle! I didn't see any signs against it."

Molly cleared her throat. "Signs against what?"

"Sunbathing topless." She took another sip and smirked, "I'll take mine if you take yours off."

Molly opened her mouth, swallowing a noise that made her sound like a strangled cat. "Topless?"

"Best way to avoid tan lines. Besides, Richard bought me these. Might as well show them off." Mandy smirked and expertly finished her drink in one final sip, before dropping it on a tray of a passing waiter. Then, with no qualms at all, she untied the back of her top and pulled it off, exposing her chest to Molly and Sherlock.

The rather conservative Molly of course let out a squeak and stared at the girl, wondering how she had let Sherlock get her into this mess. Sure, she had no issue sunbathing topless. She had done it before, but only ever in the company of her sister or closest girlfriends. Not some American Instagrammer or bloody Sherlock.

At the thought of Sherlock, she finally had the good sense to stop rubbing his leg. She bit her lip and finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. But, instead of the wistful, faraway look she expected on his face, the one that normally indicated he was buffering, his eyes had darkened, sending a chill down Molly's spine.

She cleared her throat. Was Sherlock attracted to this twenty-something's tits? She pressed further into his body, knowing her jealous reaction was absolutely ridiculous. She met Mandy's gaze and smiled.

"Yes. Aren't tan lines the worst?" Molly found herself responding, her lips moving without input from her brain, "I loathe them." And then in what she would surely regret later, she tossed the scandalous bikini top to the chair, her bare chest now exposed to the world.

Mandy smirked at Molly and took a step forward. "Come on. Let's take a dip and give those two something to watch." She nodded in Richard's direction. The older man was no longer on the phone, but instead drinking what appeared to be a martini and watching the two women interact.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Scott?" Mandy continued on, meeting Sherlock's gaze with a smirk, "Two sets of tits to admire?" She grabbed Molly's hand and pulled her forward. She came flying off of Sherlock's lap, and steadied herself once back on her feet.

Sherlock swallowed and met Molly's gaze. She had turned a deep shade of red and was desperately trying not to cover her exposed chest, knowing 'Michelle' would be comfortable with everyone staring at her breasts. Mandy looked between the couple and made a 'tsk tsk' noise.

"Poor baby, aren't you Scott? I don't think anyone would blame you for taking care of that." Mandy began to pull Molly away and towards the pool, only allowing the brunette a brief glimpse at Sherlock. She swallowed, unbelieving of the sight in front of her, slowly becoming smaller and smaller as she approached the edge of the pool.

 _Could Sherlock really be—_

"Oh, look at them watching us." Mandy hummed, distracting Molly from her thoughts, "It's so delicious, isn't it?" She stepped into the pool and smirked, "Richard just loves this sort of thing."

Molly gulped and followed Mandy into the pool, letting out a soft sigh as the cool water hit her heated skin. She swallowed and looked to the blonde, "What sort of thing?"

"Oh, you know, making new friends." She glanced over at her boyfriend and winked at him, "Meeting people with similar interests as our own."

Molly swallowed and glanced over to Sherlock, who had not moved from the chair. He met her gaze and tilted his head, studying the two women in the water. She let out a shaky breath and looked back to Mandy.

"How did you and Richard meet?" She asked, watching as the blonde waddled through the pool, careful to not mess up her perfect blonde waves or expertly placed flower.

Mandy smirked. "He was working in Thailand and I was there for a shoot. It was love at first sight."

 _Sex crimes, prostitution, sex tourism…._

Sherlock's comments rang through her head. Molly didn't know much about the topic, aside from that it was absolutely awful and becoming more common every year. However, she recognized Thailand as a prominent country for the crime from the few news articles she had read. She cleared her throat and glanced to Mandy.

"Does he work in Thailand often? It's so gorgeous. I want Scott to take us, but I think the flight time intimidates him." Molly explained.

Mandy pouted. "It's a long flight, but that gives plenty of time for the two of you." She giggled and winked, before continuing, "He doesn't work there often but he has a lot of friends who do. We go every once in a while."

Molly bit her lip. "What does he do? It sounds luxurious."

"Not really sure," Mandy laughed and pressed her back into the pool edge, tilting her head back as the sun hit the upper half of her body, "But whatever it is, he has a fuck ton of money. So, I don't ask questions."

Molly swallowed. "Right. Sounds glamorous."

The blonde made a noise of agreement. "That it is. You and Scott? How did you meet?"

Thinking back to Sherlock's explanation of their background, she smiled. "Oh, through work. I'm a dentist and Scott was one of my patients."

Mandy smirked. "Naughty. Did you ever fuck during an examination?"

Molly swallowed. "Oh, erm—"

"Because if you had, that would have been _so_ hot."

Molly gulped. "Yes. We did. It was… Hot."

Mandy squealed and splashed Molly. "Oh, I like you two. While we shop, you've got to share some of your naughty secrets. He won't take his eyes off you."

"He—" Once Mandy's words processed, she blinked and cleared her throat. "Sorry, what?"

"I just mean this entire morning he hasn't stopped watching you." She sighed wistfully and began waddling through the water again, "I suppose it's the honeymoon phase. I wish Richard would look at me like that but, you know how work is for a man. He has so many distractions."

Molly swallowed.

 _Yes. Believe me, I do._

"Scott is just…" She glanced back to Sherlock, who as Mandy explained, was studying them intently, "Protective."

Mandy moaned. "Fuck, that's hot. I love when Richard gets jealous. Sometimes I purposely flirt with our waiters just to watch him get angry."

Molly blinked. "Oh, that's…. Sweet."

She smirked. "Don't knock it till you try it, Michelle."

Suddenly, the blonde had lifted herself out of the pool, somehow performing the task gracefully. Molly couldn't help but be intimidated by her perfectly arranged hair, perfect tits (albeit those were fake) and flat stomach, leading into a very tiny set of teal bikini bottoms. Mandy smirked at her.

"I know just how to get them going. Follow me."

Without giving Molly a chance to respond, Mandy had strutted away, towards the infinity pool. Molly swallowed and pulled herself out of the pool. She glanced over at Sherlock, who had not moved, and instead continued to watch her. She took a deep breath and stuck her chin up, racing after Mandy.

The blonde was lounging with her feet in the infinity pool, talking to two extremely attractive blokes. Given their young age and energy, she figured they were trust fund kids on a holiday. Mandy turned and waved to her, yelling her name. Molly took a deep breath and dropped beside her, trying to forget that the entire pool was looking at her tits.

And then, as if she did this for a living (and Molly was starting to think she did) Mandy began to sweet talk the boys, discovering that they were University friends from Oxford, and who had felt they needed a "break" from their tiring lives as financial analysts in London. It made Molly want to gag.

Yet, somehow, within mere moments, the boys had ordered them a round of drinks (and Molly had seen the menu—nothing was going for less than 25 pounds a glass), unabashedly flirting with both women.

Molly had to admit that the entire experience did loads for her self-confidence. It had been a long time since blokes had shown her unrestrained attention. And sure, they were on holiday and wanted a quick shag, and her tits were out, but she felt free in a way she never had before.

She was in the middle of a conversation with Teddy when she suddenly couldn't feel the sun on her back anymore. Conscious of the figure leaning over her, she turned around and met Sherlock's stony gaze. She swallowed and bit her lip. Teddy swam to the edge and leaned against it, grinning up at Sherlock.

"Can I help you, mate? Unless you're taking our order for our second round of drinks, you're blocking the pretty lady's sun," Teddy chirped in, one hand moving to rest on Molly's hip.

That seemed to be the last straw for Sherlock. Molly watched the muscle in his jaw twitch as he glared down at the much younger boy. "Michelle. Let's go."

Molly knew he was desperately holding in what were surely scathing deductions. She swallowed and glanced over at Mandy, who simply smirked and mouthed, 'it worked'.

With a shaky breath, Molly rose to her feet. Sherlock immediately wrapped his arm around her and sent a glare at Teddy. "My wife wouldn't touch your tiny cock with a barge pole."

Sherlock directed her towards the cabana, his hands caging her body in and preventing her from turning back around, although she did hear Mandy shout about their evening plans. Once back in the cabana, he let go of her and tossed the bikini top and cover-up at her.

"Get dressed." He turned away and began to collect his own belongings. Molly rolled her eyes and righted her clothes. Once satisfied with her state of dress, Sherlock grabbed her hand and lead her back to the hotel.

They moved in uncomfortable silence, Sherlock not speaking a single word to her as they moved through the hotel hallways and the elevator. It wasn't until they were back in their suite and their door was firmly shut that he settled his gaze on her, his eyes murderous. Molly swallowed.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, his tone clipped.

Molly cleared her throat and held her chin up. "What was what?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Molly," he growled, a warning in his tone, "We have a role to play."

"And I played it!" She spat back, pulling the cover-up over her head, "You're the one not playing along!"

He growled. "I'm not playing along? I kissed you because I knew she'd enjoy that. So, clearly, I'm—"

Molly shook her head. "Nope. You need to admit that Mandy is nothing like you expected. She's young and bold and makes money from taking Instagram photos and fucking a man old enough to be her father."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I admit that I was expecting someone a bit more…" He sighed and shifted, "Older, perhaps. More elegant."

"Exactly. I'm being what Mandy wants me to be. Sexually adventurous and fun. And it's working because she's talking to me."

He scoffed. "You took your bloody top off and started flirting with a couple of blokes ten years your senior."

Molly held her head high and untied her bikini top. "So?"

Sherlock glanced at her exposed chest and then averted his gaze. He coughed. "Molly, do you mind?"

She shrugged. "You just spent two hours staring at them. What's it matter now?"

He swallowed. "I just think—"

He stopped speaking as she dropped her bottoms, now standing in front of him, fully nude. He couldn't help his wandering eyes. He immediately squeezed them shut. "Molly! Jesus, do you mind?"

She laughed and grabbed one of the hotel issue dressing gown. "Do I mind? John says you used to walk around nude all the time. What's the difference if I do it?"

"You—That's not—You blush at everything—"

Molly tied the dressing gown and hummed. "Molly does. Michelle does not. We are acting here, aren't we?"

Sherlock swallowed. "I can't have you being reckless."

She snorted. "I'm anything but. Now, I'm going to take a shower. Then, I'll tell you about the discussion I had with Mandy about Richard's work in Thailand."

With that, she disappeared into the bathroom. Sherlock dropped to the bed and rubbed at his face. He cursed and glanced at his bottom half, wondering if it was healthy to have an erection for three hours.

-x-x-x-

A bit while later, after a nice shower and eating a chocolate bar she had purchased at the airport, Molly felt like a new person. But, she had lounged around long enough, and had to meet Mandy at the shops within the half hour. So, she was standing over her suitcase, staring at the clothes Meena had purchased for her.

 _You spent half the day topless. Nothing in here should scare you._

She gulped and pulled out the satin maxi dress she had looked at earlier. It had a halter neckline and as a result no coverage for her back, exposing skin all the way until right above her bum. With a deep breath she strode into the bathroom, keen on dressing and finishing getting ready.

While she had discussed the little information she had gotten from Mandy with Sherlock, she had spoken scarcely with the man since arriving back in the room. Sometime during her shower, he had changed also into just a dressing gown, and moved to one of the reclining seats. Since then, he appeared to be deep within his mind palace.

Frankly, that worked just fine for Molly. She was hoping to leave this island with as much of her heart intact as possible. Endless fighting with Sherlock and fake snogging was certainly not going to help.

After slipping into the dress, she glanced in the mirror. She was braless and couldn't help but flush at the way her pert breasts pressed against the soft fabric. Her nipples were extremely noticeable, but after today, she figured this was one of the more conservative outfits she had put on, even with every inch of her back exposed.

She fluffed her hair a bit, adding a few extra curls before pinning some of it back. Knowing Mandy would surely look like she stepped off a magazine cover, she felt inclined to doll herself up a bit, even if they were just hitting the shops. So, she added some mascara and a dab of lip gloss, but overall, she didn't put much makeup on. Besides, she was flushing so much that she surely didn't need blush.

Molly walked back into the suite and grabbed her purse. She looked over at Sherlock and cleared her throat. "I'm going shopping with Mandy now."

Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced over to her, blinking a few times as he looked her up and down. His eyes stopped on her chest, taking in her perky breasts and erect nipples, before focusing on the empty chair across from him.

"Very well. We have dinner reservations at 8. Find out where Blackwell is from her and then text me." He shifted in his seat and began to hit his fingers against the arm of the chair, "Get as much information out of her as you can. She likely doesn't know much, but anything will be helpful."

Molly nodded. "Of course."

She disappeared out of the room, leaving Sherlock to drop his head to hands, equally as disheveled as she felt.

-x-x-x-

An hour later, Molly and Mandy were in their second shop of the evening. The first shop had sold luxury shoes, and Molly sat to the side and watched as Mandy tried on six pairs (and left with eight). Well, not actually left—staying in the presidential suite meant some minimum-wage paid teenage would be lugging her eight shoe boxes upstairs sometime that evening.

As expected, Mandy had shown up looking completely perfect, and if Molly had to guess, she had just finished yet another Instagram photoshoot. During the shoe try-on session, Molly had looked the account up, and was unsurprised to see the girl had accumulated almost five-hundred thousand subscribers and was periodically doing posts with different brands and travel companies.

 _Jeez. Sounds like a fun job._

And, as Sherlock had requested, Molly had inquired about Richard's whereabouts, wanting to know how the man planned to spend his time with his girlfriend out and about. Mandy launched Molly into a long story about how hard he was working, and that she expected him to sit at the hotel bar, catching up on some emails. Molly had communicated that to Sherlock and wondered if he would have any luck speaking to the man.

 _Of course, he would. It's Sherlock._

So, now Molly was free to enjoy the early hours of the evening. Mandy gallivanted about, her perfect blonde hair in delicate waves, her sun-kissed skin covered in a pair of stylish, extremely short linen shorts and a black crop top, an ensemble that Molly was certain cost more than the entire collection of clothes Meena had bought for her back in London.

They had just strolled into the lingerie store that Mandy had spoken so highly about and were glancing at their own preferences. Mandy had gravitated towards the sheer body suits and had already grabbed a black one, holding it against her body as she looked in the mirror.

Inclined to play it safe, Molly was looking through the frilly, cute pieces of underwear they had out. She rather liked some of the bright colors, and how most of them were sexy while still appropriate. She had picked up a cherry red pair when Mandy strolled over, holding a sheer body suit.

"Oh, darling, no! Look, I get sensible underwear. While those would totally be good period underwear, you're on vacation with your man. Let's get you something scandalous." Mandy explained, before grabbing the pair of knickers from Molly's hand and tossing them back. "How about this?"

To Molly's mortification, she held up the sheer body suit, her perfect teeth distracting with her mega-watt smile. "I mean, Scott already can't keep his hands or eyes off you, but just imagine if you wear this to dinner tonight."

Molly squeaked. "That to dinner?"

Mandy laughed. "You're funny, Michelle. Not just this of course. We'll find a sexy dress to go over it."

Taking the garment from Mandy, Molly studied the piece. The entire thing was sheer, although around the breasts and the side of the hips there were intricate lace designs. She bit her lip and looked back to Mandy. She had to admit that it was rather cute, but still something she felt much out of her league wearing.

"Perfect! Let's look around. Maybe we'll find something else." Mandy grabbed her hand and dragged her along, immediately picking up items for both the women.

-x-x-x-

Somehow, an hour later, Molly walked out of the shop with two bags full of garment boxes, and a receipt with a number on it that make her sick.

 _Oh, Mycroft is certainly paying for this trip._

Molly had been rather pliant (or rather feared doing anything to upset the girl) and had willingly tried on loads of outfits and skimpy pieces of lingerie that she never would have otherwise. Yet, upon gazing at herself in the mirror, clad in a matching set of baby pink, lace bra and knickers, with garter straps and all, she couldn't help but feel sexy.

That burst of confidence must have followed her, because somehow, she left that shop with more scandalous pieces than she would ever need. Mandy was especially delighted by the purchases, squealing the entire time that if Scott was anything like Richard, most of the pieces would be destroyed by the time she got back to London.

And then Mandy bid her a farewell, reminding her about their dinner plans later that hour, and to meet them on the roof. Apparently, the couple had rented out the entire rooftop restaurant, so the dinner would be an intimate affair for just the four of them.

The thought made Molly just a tad nervous as she reentered their suite. She dropped her bags onto the bed and kicked her shoes off before collapsing on the plush surface. She groaned.

Across the room, Sherlock was busy on his laptop, clad in a light blue, button down top, and another pair of tan trousers. He looked especially adorable with his fake glasses tucked into the dip of his shirt and the gel in his hair slowly parting, allowing a few of his curls to escape. At the sound of Molly's entry, he glanced over to the bed.

"I see you went shopping." He pointed out, although continued his focus on his scribbles.

Molly groaned. "Yes, and boy can she shop. I reckon she spent the equivalent of six-thousand pounds in two hours."

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgment. "Yes, well, when you have wealth like Richard Blackwell, money is of no object."

Molly sighed. "Speaking of which, Mycroft owes me three-hundred pounds for all this lingerie I bought."

That had Sherlock glancing over. "And why did you spend three-hundred pounds on lingerie?"

She bit her lip. "Well, I… I felt… Pressured."

He waved his hand. "Then return it. She won't be any wiser."

Molly cleared her throat. "Right. Well, she wants to see me wearing some of—"

He rolled his eyes. "If you want it, then don't blame its purchase on Mandy. I don't care what you buy. I'll make Mycroft pay for a bloody boat if you want it."

She swallowed and strolled over to Sherlock, sitting in the seat across from him. "We're to meet them in an hour. They rented the entire rooftop restaurant out. It's just us."

Sherlock glanced up. "Mhm. Unsurprising."

"Were you able to locate Richard? Did you speak?"

He sighed. "We did. Briefly. We discussed you two. Then, I told him I was interested in buying a private jet, and what his experience was with his."

Molly blinked. "Oh. And that…?"

He shrugged. "I now know how often he travels. Also, as he ordered a drink, I hacked into his mobile and took some incriminating emails and phone numbers."

"Oh! That's wonderful!" At his look of indifference, she sighed, "Right?"

He continued typing. "It's just a preliminary piece of the puzzle. There are names involved I've never heard before. I've sent them to Mycroft to have them tracked."

Molly nodded. "Right. Okay. What else can I do to help?"

He glanced over to her. "Just keep Mandy happy. I realize she's…" he paused, considering his words, "Not the type of woman I expect you normally befriend, but if she likes you, the more we can hang out with the two."

"Of course. I'll go get ready for dinner."

After grabbing a few pieces of clothing, Molly disappeared into the bathroom. Still high on the confidence from the sexy lingerie, she slipped into the baby pink ensemble she bought, especially enjoying the look of the garters around her thighs. On top, she slipped on a white, high-low dress that Meena had purchased. The chest of the dress had a deep V-neck, exposing much of Molly's cleavage and the pink, frilly pattern of the bra.

After putting on some additional makeup and fixing her hair, Molly felt sexy. Her skin was glowing from the sun, the lipstick had given her lips a nice pop, and her hair had a sexy, "I just went to the beach" look. She quickly applied some lotion and perfume, knowing that she would smell as good as she looked.

Once back in the suite, she pulled out a gorgeous pair of strappy heels that Meena had purchased and sat onto the bed, beginning the rather long and tedious process of buckling the straps. Sherlock, who had been digging through his suitcase, noticed her reappearance and stood up. He narrowed his eyes, watching her finish putting her shoes on.

Satisfied with the state of her shoes, Molly sat up and smiled. She sensed Sherlock's watchful gaze and made a face. "What? Is something wrong with how I'm dressed?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and began to reapply gel to his hair. Molly couldn't help but whimper once the last of his curls were secured to his head.

"No." He cleaned his hands and stood rigidly straight. "Just please be cautious. Richard is a much different beast than Mandy. She's naïve. He's clever. Let me do most of the talking."

Molly crossed her arms. "Right, of course. I forgot I'm too dumb to communicate without blowing our cover. I've already spilled loads to Mandy. I made sure to include your resurrection."

He narrowed his eyes. "Ha ha. I'm simply being cautious. I don't believe Blackwell is necessarily violent, but he is certainly capable of being so."

She made a noise of acknowledgment. "I dated Jim Moriarty, remember? I truly doubt I can't survive a dinner with Richard Blackwell and his Instagram model girlfriend."

At the mention of her short-lived relationship with Moriarty, he flinched. "Just be careful. That's all I ask."

"I will be. But you need to be too."

He made a face. "Come again?"

She sighed. "You have all these expectations for what they're going to act like. Every couple is different. And clearly Mandy is not the type of girlfriend you expected Richard to have. So, my point is, Mandy is probably going to knock you off track. You need to tell her what she wants to hear."

He rolled his eyes. "Right."

"I'm serious. When she asked how we met and I said I was a dentist and you were my patient, her immediate question was if we had sex during an examination. She was excited, so obviously I said yes to keep the conversation going."

He made a face. "How unsanitary. During an examination? How does that even work?"

She groaned. "Enough. Are you ready? We should go."

He hummed in agreement and shoved a few things in his pockets. "I expect this dinner to be filled with the unexpected."

Molly sighed and followed him to the door.

"I have the same feeling."

 _ **To be continued…**_

 **NOTE:** So sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoyed—also, this story is now three-parts instead of two 😊 thanks for reading!


	3. The Honeymoon Period

The evening sky was a gorgeous canvas of orange and pink hues, the remnants of the sunset painting the edge of the ocean. From the rooftop of the resort, a cozy, romantic set-up with a breath-taking view, Molly realized she was living in a dream. A fairytale.

How else could she explain her current situation? She was wearing clothes that she never had dreamt of wearing (or being able to afford), eating food that she would never have considered trying, and having a pleasant conversation with two of the last people on earth she expected.

All while sitting next to Sherlock Holmes.

And boy, had it been a bizarre evening thus far. When Sherlock and Molly arrived at dinner, they were escorted to the lone table set up on the roof, the wooden top covered in gorgeous tea lights and exotic flowers. Mandy was wearing a tiny baby blue dress that barely covered an inch of her, and Richard had taken to wearing an "I'm wealthy" outfit of khaki linen pants and a loose, white button down.

Truthfully, Molly had been scared of the potential conversations among the foursome, but everything had gone smoothly. Mandy probed Sherlock for information on their relationship. Sherlock casually mentioned his own wealthy friends and got some much-needed information about Richard's colleagues in Thailand. Molly had inquired about Mandy's burgeoning modeling career.

Even by the second course, things were still delightfully calm. They listened to the ocean, sipping champagne, discussing the world and travel and the food on their plates.

But, as Molly had learned early in her life, all good things came to an end.

"So," Richard began, moving away from a rather long conversation about Sherlock's fictitious time at Eton, "I must say, I've really enjoyed our time together. It's not often that Mandy and I find couples who we feel…" He glanced over at his girlfriend, studying the way she bit her lip, "share our personal interests."

He sipped his glass of champagne and lounged back in his chair, his eyes roaming leisurely between Sherlock and Molly. "Every year, I throw a party at one of my homes. Last year it was at my place in Ibiza. This year I plan to hold it in Phuket,"

Molly watched as Sherlock's shoulders tensed at the mention of the Thai city. Richard continued.

"Mandy and I would love for you two to join." He smiled knowingly and ran his thumb around the edge of his glass, studying the couple, "But, this may not be the sort of party you're used to."

Sherlock tilted his head, watching the man. "Oh? How so?"

Mandy giggled and leaned across the table, uncaring of the way her chest practically spilled out from the top, "It's a sex party!"

Richard chuckled and affectionately kissed his girlfriend's head. "Mandy is rather blunt. I would consider it a celebration of sensuality."

Molly couldn't help the way her mouth fell open. Sherlock, sensing her hesitation, reached over and squeezed her hand. He smiled at Richard.

"We're flattered. I suppose it's something Michelle and I will need to discuss. You know, getting off of work and—"

Richard was quick to interrupt. "You see," He rambled on, his eyes dropping to Molly's chest in a rather obvious manner, "We were inclined to extend an invitation because Mandy mentioned your proclivity for public sex." He glanced back to Sherlock before looking at Molly, his eyes hungry, "Mandy and I were thrilled to hear we weren't alone."

Molly coughed and flushed a deep red. "Yes, erm, Scott and I—"

Sherlock squeezed her hand to stop her speaking. "You aren't alone. Michelle and I enjoy a very healthy sex life." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Molly's mouth before glancing back to Richard, "When will you be holding your celebration?"

Richard just chuckled. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. But, before we can officially extend an invite, I'm afraid we'll need a sneak peek." He leaned back in his chair and wrapped his arm around Mandy, relaxing as the blonde began to press wet kisses along his neck, "You see, enjoying sex with your wife in private is much different than what we have planned."

"I see." Sherlock responded, watching the two curiously, "What did you—"

"I want to see you please your wife, Scott," Richard was quick to explain, cutting Sherlock off with a grin, "Mandy and I are always partial to dinner and a show."

Molly let out an unidentifiable noise and looked over to Sherlock, who studied Richard with unreadable eyes. After a moment, he glanced back to Molly, his eyes roaming over every inch of her face and body. He let out a terse breath and faced the couple.

"I see. Michelle and I would love to. Unfortunately," He paused but then smirked, "Well, not unfortunately, but she and I went at it like teenagers this afternoon. I imagine she's rather sore."

Molly gulped and nodded quickly. "Extremely sore. Scott is…" She flushed a deep red. "Well, he's got a large cock and he knows how to use it."

At her vulgarity, Richard just smirked and relaxed into Mandy, who had dropped her kisses to his chest. He let out a soft sigh.

"I see. That is a shame." He let his eyes roam over Molly's flushing features before glancing back to Sherlock, "Then you don't need to fuck her. Let's just see you please your wife with your mouth."

Mandy moaned and glanced at the couple. "Oh, yes! Scott, I want to see you eat her out."

Sherlock glanced at Molly, his darkening gaze exploring her features, looking for any sort of hesitation. Instead, Molly stared back, pupils dilated, her lips slightly apart. The detective let out a strangled hiss before looking back to Richard.

"Very well." Sherlock rose to his feet and held out his hand for Molly. She glanced at his hand and swallowed, before hesitantly taking it. He led the pair to a gorgeous and rather wide love seat, which had intimate lights hovering over the space.

Without words, Sherlock lifted her up and gently set her on the surface. As soon as her body hit the cushion, he hovered over her, the pair close enough that the other couple would assume they were kissing or whispering sweet nothings to one another.

"Are you sure this is alright?" He whispered, his eyes flickering between her own and her soft form, hidden beneath the white dress, "You can feign illness. I'll find another way to get his trust."

Molly swallowed and stared into his very blue, very concerned orbs. "No, no, I'm okay," She squeaked out, before licking her lips nervously, "It's been awhile so… If you're okay, then I'm okay."

Sherlock nodded. "Very well."

"Sherlock…" Molly looked away, now unable to meet his gaze, "You're not a virgin, right?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No. And why you lot assume I am is beyond me." Without another word, he pushed away from Molly and dropped to his knees, now leaning between her legs. He pushed the dress up to her hips, his eyes mischievous.

"Now, remember, be careful who you scream for. I'm not me." And then the git smirked before running his hands up her exposed thighs, although pausing at the sight of the baby pink garters. He let out a noise of pain.

Molly leaned up on her elbows to meet his gaze, slightly amused. "What? Didn't expect that from mousy me?"

He growled and pushed her legs apart. "Don't test me, darling. Just sit back and enjoy."

And that's precisely what Molly did. At the initial feeling of Sherlock's tongue on her slit, she let out a throaty noise that even caught her off guard. Within moments her eyes were squeezed shut and her toes were curling in what she could only describe as pure bliss.

His mouth was stunning. His tongue licked and probed every crevice of her cunt, his fingers immediately following suit to find her eager entrance. And by the time his mouth had locked around her clit, sucking generously as his two fingers moved in and out, she was convinced she was seeing stars.

But she desperately wanted to hold two handfuls of soft, curly hair, to feel Sherlock's signature locks tickling her fingers as he dragged her through the throes of passion. But with the gel in his hair, and two eager eyes on them, she was reminded that he wasn't Sherlock. She wasn't Molly.

She opened her eyes, continuing to cry out every time Sherlock's tongue lapped at her dripping cunt, and met the watchful gaze of their dinner companions. The two were enjoying it so much that Molly couldn't even see Mandy, sans the top of the blonde girl's head moving below the surface of the table.

Molly wasn't sure if their display was appalling or enticing.

Based on how it drew a girlish scream from her lips, she was sure it was the latter.

And then Sherlock did what only Sherlock could do, expertly turning her brain to mush with just a warm tongue and two thick fingers. With one final flick of her clit, she was crying out, screaming nonsensical words of passion, her hands squeezing the white dress laying on her stomach, her heels digging into Sherlock's clothed shoulders.

Her back relaxed against the love chair, her breathing sporadic, as Sherlock slowly adjusted her clothing. When she finally met his soft blue eyes, she gulped.

He moved forward and caressed her cheek, his thumb tracing her reddened lips. "You are so beautiful, Molly."

Before she could respond, she heard another groan of pleasure, and with Sherlock, turned to watch their dinner companions. Mandy had reappeared by Richard's side, smirking and rubbing at his chest, her hair askew. The man seemed pleased.

Sherlock cleared his throat and grabbed Molly's hand, slowly approaching the table. He met Richard's gaze. "I expect that was satisfactory, Richard? Will we fit in with your crowd?"

Richard hummed, his eyes playful. "I think so." He glanced at Mandy, pressing a hard kiss to the woman's lips, "I reckon the two of us will be enjoying your company very soon."

The detective coughed. "Yes. Of course."

And then, as if nothing happened, as if Sherlock hadn't just finger fucked one of his dearest friends, as if Mandy hadn't given Richard Blackwell a knob-job under the table, the four returned to their seats, feasting on coconut cake and fresh strawberries.

-x-x-x-

By the time Molly and Sherlock strolled back into their hotel room, Molly holding her sandals in her hands, an uncomfortable silence had settled between the pair. Dessert had been eaten with little excitement, the foursome back to discussing trivial pursuits like the weather and holiday spots.

They had shared another glass of wine before Molly feigned exhaustion, she and Sherlock heading back to the room, cognizant of the way Mandy and Richard were already all over each other the minute they stepped away from the dinner table.

Since then, Molly and Sherlock had yet to speak at all.

 _What can I say?_

 _Thanks for eating me out? That's the best orgasm I've had ever?_

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, studying her cherry red toes. Sherlock shut the door and moved to stand over her. He watched her carefully. As soon as she noticed his focus, she glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

He recognized her confusion and was quick to speak. "That was successful. I expect formal information about his get together tomorrow over breakfast. This is working perfectly."

Sherlock strolled over to his suitcase and began to remove clothes from the bag. Molly stared after him, mouth agape.

How could he possibly be taking this so casually?

"Sherlock," She forced out, before rising to her feet, "You…" She cleared her throat, "You don't expect us to go to their party, right? First of all, I do have a job, so I can't just waltz around the world with you." She coughed and began to rub at her forearms, suddenly freezing cold, "Not to mention, I'm not…"

She let out a terse breath and rambled on. "I'm not joining you at some weird bloody sex party for rich folk!"

He glanced over to Molly and sighed desperately. "Of course not, Molly. A few MI-6 agents will be arriving with Mycroft tomorrow morning to arrest Blackwell at breakfast. The information I nicked from his phone is enough for a warrant. If he gives us the information we want, he may just get off with a slap on the wrist and deportation to Australia." He began to unbutton his top, his words so casual that it set her nerves on edge, "Our flight leaves in the early afternoon."

Molly stared at him, mouth agape. In fact, her brain was having such trouble processing the words that her mouth opened and closed, making her red face look like a bloody fish. After a few moments, she finally found her footing.

"Sorry, what?" She stuttered out, her eyes locked on Sherlock as he neatly folded the shirt he had been wearing and tucked it back into the suitcase.

Sherlock glanced over to her and sighed. "Was I not clear? Blackwell will be—"

Molly began to move towards the man. "Stop talking. You answer this next question and you better be honest." Her hands began to shake as the words escaped her lips. "When did you find out that you had enough evidence to arrest him?"

The detective shut his suitcase and turned to look at her. "Molly—"

"Answer me."

His gaze dropped to the ground. "As you showered before dinner. Mycroft called me."

Molly let out a strangled cry. "Then why did I let you finger me in front of a fucking sixty-year old man and a bloody Instagram model?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Molly, I had to keep up our—"

"Stop it." She took another step forward and poked at his bare chest. "You did it because you wanted to, didn't you?"

He coughed. "Molly—"

"Sherlock. Answer me."

He shifted and let out a curse. "Alright, Molly. Would you like me to be honest?"

"Yes!"

He stalked towards her, his eyes wild. "Of course, I wanted to bloody do it. This entire trip you've been like a tumor! You were harmless at the start but now, now you've just—"

She opened her mouth to lash back at him, mainly over the fact that he'd just compared her to cancer, but he wasn't finished, and let her know once he raised his hand.

"It's my turn to speak!" He hissed out, before beginning to pace the room, "You bloody show up wearing practically nothing and then go so far as to prance around the pool deck topless?" He ran his hands down his face and let out a curse, "In case you have forgotten, Molly, I don't have the greatest self-control. I do what I want and when I want."

He stalked towards her, his eyes wild. "And after seeing you, so bloody edible, wandering around in just bits of lace, I had no choice." He let out a strangled noise and hovered over her, "I just had to taste you when given the opportunity."

Molly swallowed and stared at Sherlock, eyes wide. "Oh."

He grunted. "Yes. Oh. Now, if you're so willing, you could kindly allow me an encore of ravaging your cunt with my tongue."

She nodded weakly.

"Yes. I'm willing."

-x-x-x-

It was an evening filled with many firsts. It was the first time that Molly had ever orgasmed more than once. It was the first time she had sex with a man she loved.

In fact, it was the first time she made love.

Oh, but it hadn't been soft or slow or filled with sweet moments of staring into one another's eyes, whispering words of passion into each other's ears.

It had been rough. Hard. The pair went at it like rabbits. Aside from the days of sexual tension built up while on the mission, it was their years of friendship that really helped the bubble burst.

And as Molly had rode his cock, her hips grinding into him with every purr and gasp, she knew she would never be happier. His lips on hers, her hands in his soft curls, his hands leaving bruises along her hips...

Yeah. She could live with this forever.

By the time they had wrapped up their third go around, Sherlock's spend drying between her legs, another silence had captured the room, albeit this one relaxed.

Satiated.

She snuggled into his warm body, her cheek nuzzling into his muscular shoulder. She whimpered and kissed the skin.

"I don't know what you want," She began, her voice soft, her fingers teasingly rubbing his arm, "But my feelings for you have never wavered, Sherlock."

He shifted beneath her and simply sighed. "You know," He began, his deep voice tickling her nerves, "You, John, and Mycroft claim to know me so well, but consistently misjudge my actions."

Sherlock flipped over, now hovering over her body. He met her gaze.

"I do not do things casually. If I'm making love to you Molly, you're mine now." He kissed her softly, his eyes playful, "I do hope that sits well with you."

Molly sniffled and kissed him again. "Gods, you are so aggravating Sherlock."

He made a noise of agreement and began to kiss along her chest.

"My name is Scott. Now hush, wife. Our honeymoon is ending. Let's enjoy the room."

Molly couldn't argue with that.

-x-x-x-

The following morning, Molly couldn't say she wasn't upset watching as Richard was arrested. As Sherlock had explained previously, the man likely wasn't involved in anything directly, but enabled some disgusting behavior from some disgusting people. According to Mycroft, as long as Blackwell played nice and gave them the information they needed, he likely wouldn't be punished more severely than being stuck in his home country of Australia.

But, Molly did feel awful, watching Mandy's normally cheerful features fall in confusion. Once the man was led away, the blonde fell to a chair, staring forward. Molly sat beside her and grabbed her hand.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, unsure of where she was going with her words, "I um… As crazy as it sounds, I know what you're going through. I had an ex-boyfriend who turned out to be a criminal mastermind so… I understand the surprise."

Mandy sighed and shrugged, her face in a permanent frown. "I'm so stupid. I should have assumed he was doing something illegal. He had so much money. And he barely worked! He took phone calls but that was like, all he did."

Molly nodded and rubbed her back. "I should be honest with you. My name isn't Michelle. It's Molly. And my husband, Scott, is actually Sherlock Holmes, a famous detective. And he's not my husband."

Mandy blinked and glanced between Sherlock, who was speaking intensely with Mycroft and a few MI-6 agents, and then Molly. "Um, what? You two aren't married?"

She shook her head. "No. We were undercover."

"But…" The blonde rubbed her eyes, streaks of mascara now covering her cheeks, "He like, ate you out. And you like, are totally in love with him."

Molly smiled softly and nodded. "Yes, I know."

The pair sat in silence, Mandy sniffling softly, Molly simply just rubbing her back.

"Do you have anywhere to go to?" Molly asked, looking back to the blonde with concern. Sure, Mandy and she had nothing in common, but she couldn't say she hadn't grown fond of the girl in their days here.

She had genuine fun with Mandy. She didn't want to see her sad.

"Well, I have photoshoots in Milan and Rome with a travel agency, but not for another three weeks." She sighed and looked down, "I guess I can just travel around or go stay with my parents in Florida."

Molly bit her lip.

"You ever been to London?"

-x-x-x-

Sherlock hadn't understood why Mandy was tagging along with them back to London. He also had trouble dealing with her endless questions about his career, about what exactly a detective did, if his real name was Sherlock, if his brother _actually_ ran the British government, how long he had loved Molly for, if he—

Yes, it had been exhausting. And while his first instinct was to complain, or be rude to the woman, Molly's calming smile always convinced him otherwise.

Besides, he couldn't really complain when Mandy found a little deerstalker hat for Toby or prepared some American atrocity (oh, who was he kidding, _delicacy_ ) called s'mores for him and Molly, or insisted they watch endless episodes of TOWIE on the telly.

He had her to thank for his beautiful Molly, wearing nothing but a slip of baby pink lace and garters that made his mouth water.

Oh, and she had helped him make an Instagram.

It turns out quite a few people wanted to see his photos of cigar ash, Toby, and embarrassing angles of John.

As he relaxed in his chair, he glanced over to his kitchen table, where Molly sat with Mandy and Meena, flipping through a fashion magazine, a bottle of wine between them.

Sure, the chattering irritated him. Sure, he missed his silence. Sure, he hated sharing Molly.

But as it turns out, he owed quite a bit to her friends.

Maybe he'd send them flowers.

But only after he thanked Molly yet again, perhaps this time on the kitchen island.

 _ **The End**_


End file.
